地窖里的春天Spring in the Di Jiao*

晓风秋月

2007/06/01

[Xiao Feng Qiu Yue (pen name) went to the military style reeducation camp in Hei Long Jiang Province]

三十六年前的今天，我采集了一个植物标本，夹在我的笔记本里，命名:"地窖里的春天"，那是一枚长着两颗红色浆果的冬青树的枝叶标本。翻开那本老旧泛黄的笔记本，当年碧绿的冬青茎叶已经几乎是黄色的了，当年那鲜红的浆果也已是暗淡的酱色，被压破的浆果汁液把笔记本的纸浸得褶皱着。冬青枝叶标本长约15厘米左右，伸展的最宽处大约8、9厘米的样子，整个冬青标本被我压成很优美的形态，占据了那页纸的大部分面积，在冬青茎叶的右侧，工整的竖行写着粗体的钢笔字：地窖里的春天，一九七一年一月六日。

一九七零年的11月底，我在5营43连这个农业连队渡过了六个半月（一个除了播种以外的完整的农业周期）后，来到了山光水色的蛤蟆通水库，当时已是冰天雪地了。北大荒不知从什么时候开始，每年冬天都要大修水利，都要有不同规模的冬季水利大会战。那一年，852农场调集了六个营的兵力，组成六个水利连队，组建了团部（852农场总场部，那时都按军队建制叫做'团部'）直属机构：二十团水利指挥部，拉开了架势，要打一场重绘852水利蓝图的大战役。蛤蟆通水库是借完达山支脉的山势，在蛤蟆通河横拦一条八百多米长的大水坝，截流蓄水建成一个中型水库。文革前，据说这里曾是一个劳改农场，各种不同经历、不同案情的"劳改犯"，和一大批就地就业的劳改新生，已经修建了一个小小的水坝和水闸。我们就是要在原有的基础上加宽加高加长水坝，修筑一条有效的溢洪道，重修一个大型的水闸，让蛤蟆通河成为蓄水可防涝、放水能灌溉的真正的水库。

一个小小的蛤蟆通一下子汇集了上千人，住在哪里呢？建造房子来不及也不可能，北大荒开荒时传统的马架子就成了水利大军的"营房"。马架子其实就是地窖，先挖一个长方形的大坑，大小根据要住的人数而定，一般是按照一个人八、九十厘米宽的铺位确定长度，再按大约六米的宽度竖直的挖下去两米来深，顶部用圆木做大梁，制作一个尖顶的框架，然后就往上面铺满各种树枝、大草，最后压上一层厚厚的土作保暖层。地窖里面中间一条近两米宽的通道，用铁的大油桶做成炉子，再用砖垒一条长长的五、六十厘米高的火墙，又用作取暖又兼作脸盆架、桌子、烤架等多功能平台。在地窖的两端各有一个粗大的砖砌的烟囱伸出顶棚，这烟囱可是性命攸关的装置呢，那时的地窖就怕着火和碳中毒，所以盘火墙和烟囱是整个建造工程里，技术含量最高的活计。通道的两旁就是睡人的大通铺，也是用圆木树枝和大草铺就的。白天大家都去了工地，地窖里的温度就明显下降，虽然也有人间断的烧炉子，但温度也就保持在零度左右。晚上大家收工回来之前，烧炉子的人一定要把炉火烧到最旺，让火墙上脸盆里的水都得烧热，劳动了一天的人们，就要靠那一盆热水洗掉一身的疲乏呢。好在北大荒有的是木头，现在想想那时烧掉的树木、森林，心都疼得发颤。就是这样白昼与夜晚的巨大温差，总是让地窖里泛着潮湿，下半夜烧炉子的人也困了，炉火渐渐的熄灭，早晨醒来时，常常是潮湿的空气在被子周围、地铺的边沿和顶棚的树枝上，结满了一层白霜。那个"春天"就是在这样的潮湿中慢慢的生长出来了。

就是三十六年前的今天，像往常一样收工回来，吃完晚饭，照例走出地窖透透空气。人们洗涮和烤鞋的味道实在难以忍受，而且出来欣赏一下蛤蟆通的傍晚，还是很能缓解身心的疲劳。白雪覆盖的山坡上，一座又一座马架子的尖顶，一个个烟囱里冒出的缕缕灰白色的青烟，远处的山峦上一盘巨大的橙红色的夕阳，映衬着黛灰色的树影，望着这幅大自然的画作，会从心里生出一种安静，一下子化解了一天的疲劳。每天的这个时候都是我最最惬意的时刻。很快外面的寒冷就把我赶回了地窖，洗漱完毕，脱掉外衣盖上所有能盖上的东西，坐在地铺的被窝里写信，给妈妈给同学。当我拿着笔沉思的时候，不经意的一眼看到脚底下的顶棚与地窖墙壁相连处，有碧绿和鲜红的颜色，我起身趴到近前才看清楚，原来是一支伸展着长出来的冬青！我高兴得大声说：快看啊，真好看，地窖里的春天！地窖里的春天呀！

我小心的把这支冬青摘下来，打开我的笔记本，细心的摆好它的形态，用力的合上本子，放在我的枕头下面，把这难得的冰天雪地之中的春天珍藏起来。从很小的时候，受母亲的影响，我就开始有了收集植物标本的习惯，一直延续至今。如今我已经收藏了许多不同地方不同品种的植物标本，但是，这枚"地窖里的春天"却始终是我最珍爱的。因为这难得的"春天"，我再一次感谢我的母亲，感谢母亲教给我的一切。

Thirty-six years ago today, I collected a plant specimen, named it "The spring in the Di Jiao"and placed it in my notebook. It was a specimen of the branches and leaves of Chinese holly along with two red berries. Opening this old notebook today, I find that the dark green branches and leaves had become yellow while the once bright red berries had turned a dark reddish brown. The berries had been pressed, releasing the juices into the pleats of the paper. The remaining specimen is about fifteen centimeters long, stretching eight or nine centimeters wide. Its long lost form has now broadened itself across the paper in a graceful shape under the pressure of my notebook. At the corner of the page, boldfaced characters are written vertically and meticulously, recording "The spring in the Di Jiao, January 6, 1971."

At the end of November in 1970, after spending six and a half months working through an entire growing season for crops, I came to the picturesque Ha-Ma-Tong Reservoir. At that time, the world was of ice and snow. The winters in Hei Long Jiang Province were brutally cold and long and yet we were there to build a dam. The construction plan for that year was to a build dam about 800 meters long to block the Ha-Ma-Tong River and to store its water in the reservoir. I heard some stories about this area being used as a prisoner's camp, before the Cultural Revolution broke out. Prisoners charged with various crimes ranging from criminal to political, were sent to serve sentences of reform through labor. They were subjected to reeducation by building a very small dam and a water gate. But our reeducation involved widening the dam, making it longer and higher, and at the same time, constructing an effective spillway and rebuilding a large-scale water gate. Overall, the project allowed the Ha-Ma-Tong Reservoir to reach its objective to contribute to flood prevention and agricultural irrigation.

The problem was that when more than one thousand people gathered at Ha-Ma-Tong Reservoir, there became a problem of shelter. It was just an impossible amount of time to build necessary houses. The only choices were improvised, temporary housing constructions - "Di Jiao" that were little more than underground ditches. To build one, a rectangular trench was dug. The length of the living quarter was determined by the number of people who were to live in it. For the frame of the pointed roof, logs were used as girders. Finally, a mixture of different kinds of branches, grasses and straws and a thick layer of soil provided an insulated roof. A large oil barrel was transformed into a stove, while a multi-functional platform was built across the entire length of the room. It was used as a radiator, a storage space and a place to dry clothes. At either side of the room were thick chimneys stretching out through the ceiling. Constructing the chimney required the most attention and skill. At that time, carbon dioxide poisoning and unexpected fires were a lethal hazard to the inhabitants of the Di Jiao. The big beds, made by logs, branches and grass, lay at either side of the passageway. During the day, the temperature would drop to zero, despite the constant efforts of some to maintain a fire in the stove. However, by the end of the work day, one person would light a roaring fire to heat up the entire room and the water in the trough. Therefore, the workers were able to return home to a warm house and to some warm water for washing away the exhaustion from the day. Thanks to the abundance of wood in the surrounding unspoiled forest, we never had a second thought about cutting and burning the wood. Now whenever I recall how many trees were burned on those days, my heart aches. After midnight, the person in charge of lighting the stove fire would fall asleep, leaving the fire to die away. With the drastic change in temperature and the steam from the boiling water, a damp environment awaited us when we woke up. Frost would hang off the edges of the beds and off the branches of the ceiling. In such a setting, the expression "spring" gradually evolved to describe our living situation.

It was today thirty-six years ago that I called it a day from work. I came back, had my supper and went out for a walk for some fresh air. The unpleasant odor from people washing and dirty shoes drying was just unbearable. Besides that, the beauty of an evening in Ha-Ma-Tong alleviated my fatigue from both my body and my mind. The snowy white hillsides, the sharp tops of the Di Jiao and the wisps of grayish white smoke from chimneys appeared as a beautiful painting before my eyes. The red orange sunset hung above a chain of mountains far away, casting dark grey shadows of the trees. While I was appreciating the beauty and the masterpiece of nature, a feeling of tranquility had spread over my heart, allaying my weariness. It was the most enlivening moment for me. But soon the cold sent me back to the Di Jiao. After washing my face and rinsing my mouth, I took off my coat and covered my frigid body with every piece of garment I possessed. I sat on the big bed and began to write to my mother and to my friends. As I sat in my deep thought with my pen, I happened to glance at the corner between the ceiling and the roof. It was something dark green and bright red, an anomaly to my eyes. I got up to get a better look and found it to be a Chinese holly sprouting from the soil! I was so exciting and cried, "Look! How beautiful it is! It is the spring in our Di Jiao!"

I carefully picked it up, shaped the branch and the berries meticulously on a page and then forcefully closed my notebook shut. I placed the notebook under my pillow in order to save this cherished spring from the season of ice and snow. From the beginning of my childhood, I had learned to collect plant specimens from my mother as a hobby, and have continued for many years. I have collected a variety of breeds from different places, but this one was the one that I treasured the most. The blessing of this valuable "spring" in the middle of such a wintry weather inspires me to extend my thanks to my mother for everything that she has taught me.

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* Di Jiao __A temporary underground housing construction.